Chanel No 5
by elfluvr
Summary: COMPLETE It's evocative of angora sweaters… and pearls. High heels… and… seamed stockings… Sequel to Sexual Kinetics with the same warning–not much plot just sexual tension, mostly in Ch 2
1. Chapter 1

Title: **Chanel No. 5**

Author: elfluvr

Summary: Sometimes it's surprising just how much Bobby knows about the most unusual topics. Sequel to "Sexual Kinetics" with the same warning – no plot, just sexual tension, mostly in Ch 2.

Disclaimer: Don't own 'em …no money … thanks Dick Wolf … and whatever else is supposed to be disclaimed.

Archive: Anywhere else, just ask

Feedback: Please! It's always welcome – constructive feedback as well as encouragement.

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A/N – This is a sequel to "Sexual Kinetics" so it would probably be helpful if you read that first.

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5:45 a.m. The early morning light was still murky as Detective Alex Eames walked down a path in Central Park carrying two cups of Starbucks. She rounded a corner and there was no mistaking that she'd found her way to the crime scene. Uniforms were everywhere taping off the area and keeping the small crowd of curious onlookers as far back as possible from the body. In another half hour the crowds would be much larger, and the cops much busier.

Her partner was easy to spot. Bobby Goren's hulking form stood off to the side, waiting for the uniforms to finish up and for daylight to cooperate. He looked anxious to begin and was probably frustrated by nature's tendency to take its own sweet time when it came to moving through the minutes between darkness and dawn.

Alex walked up to him and silently handed him his cup, black no sugar. At some point over the years it had become routine that she was the one to bring the coffee.

"Thanks."

But not so routine that he took it for granted.

"What do we have?" she asked while tucking her free hand into her armpit and stomping her feet a little to try and beat back the early morning chill. She'd forgotten her gloves in the SUV.

"Someone out walking their dog early this morning found her," Goren looked at Alex, reached into his coat pocket and tried to hand her his gloves. Alex shook her head – she couldn't see how a pair of gloves three sizes too big for her was going to be much help. Besides, in another fifteen minutes or so it would be light enough to see and she would have to snap on the latex.

"I haven't seen the body yet, but it sounds like she was discovered in the same condition as Lisa Harrison," Goren shoved his gloves back in his coat pocket and took his first sip of the hot, strong coffee, momentarily closing his eyes in appreciation.

Lisa Harrison. Her nude body was found in Central Park last Wednesday morning. She'd been raped and murdered then left posed peacefully with a wild rose bush as her headstone. It was a case they'd caught last week. That explained why Eames was now out here freezing her butt off instead of someone from homicide.

"Where's the witness?"

"Used a pay phone to call 9-1-1, reported it then disappeared," Goren ran his hand through his hair before rubbing the back of his neck, a gesture Alex knew came from aggravation. "We'll put out an appeal for any witnesses to come forward, but I'm not holding my breath."

No witness to question, still not light enough to examine the body or the scene – no wonder Goren was fidgeting.

As they stood side by side sipping their coffees, Alex's thoughts wandered back to that night in the conference room when Bobby had asked for her help figuring out the mechanics of Lisa Harrison's rape. He'd used Alex as the stand-in for Lisa to try and reenact what caused the unusual patterning of bruises on her body. The close contact and suggestive positioning necessary to satisfy his quirk had brought long-neglected feelings bubbling to the surface for Alex. She suspected Bobby had also been affected, but looking back now it was hard to tell. Who knows what she would have done if David hadn't shown up when he did?

The next morning had been a little awkward between her and Bobby, but by the end of the day things were back to normal. Alex attributed the previous night to a combination of fatigue, harmless feelings of affection for her partner, and the fact that it had been too long since she'd been intimate with any man.

She'd met David about two months ago and, in her mind, the dinner at Veritas was going to be the lead-in for a very satisfying night with the very attractive, very successful David Sullivan. But somehow, as handsome as he looked that night and as attentive as he was toward Alex, those feelings never happened. And they continued not to happen the two times she'd seen him since.

What had been happening with annoying regularity was every night just before drifting off to sleep she felt the sensation of a large, warm hand cradling her hip – as though a lover was holding her safe. She was sleeping peacefully through the nights and awakening with lingering images of pleasant, mostly-forgotten dreams – just at the fringes of her memory.

"Eames," Bobby's voice brought her out of her reverie and she realized that it was now light enough to see more than your hand in front of your face. They tossed their almost-empty cups into the nearest trash bin then ducked beneath the yellow tape.

Alex had long ago gotten used to walking at a faster pace to keep up with Goren's long strides. This morning the extra effort was welcome to help warm her.

The crime scene photographers had made their first frantic pass, but were still hovering to take shots if directed by the detectives. As she and Bobby approached the body, Goren's steps slowed – they always did. Alex suspected it was an unconscious act of reverence for the lives that were taken unwillingly from the victims. He spoke softly in their presence, and handled them with care and respect. The first few times Alex had accompanied him to murder scenes, she'd felt a lump in her throat and stinging behind her eyes as she witnessed his tenderness. Anyone who ever had one bad thing to say – one doubt – about Detective Robert Goren should be forced to watch what she was seeing right now.

He crouched down next to the body and, as always, for a silent moment he just looked at her face. Alex sometimes wondered if in that moment he was introducing himself to the victim.

"She has unusual bruising on her body … not exactly the same as Lisa Harrison's," Goren gestured toward marks on her thighs then reached to pick up one of her arms and examine her wrist. "She was bound, but she doesn't have the same bruises indicating her arms were held above her head."

Gently returning her arm to its position, he grasped her chin and moved her head first to one side then the other. "No signs of strangulation … no obvious external injuries that would cause death …" Bobby sat back on his heels, rested his elbows on his thighs and tangled his fingers. "She may have been killed with an overdose … the same as Lisa Harrison …" his voice trailed off as he brought his fists up to his chin and thoughtfully rubbed one finger along his bottom lip.

In a sudden movement, Bobby picked up her wrist again and brought it to his nose. He then leaned forward close to the victim's neck and breathed in deeply, before looking up at Alex with a question in his eyes.

"What?" Alex asked.

"Her … perfume. It's Chanel No. 5."

Alex wrinkled her nose. "Kinda outdated."

"I wouldn't call it outdated … it's … classic." Bobby stood up and cocked his head at the victim, as if he expected her to yield an answer. "It's an unlikely choice for such a young woman."

Apparently finished with his on-scene examination, Bobby turned to walk away. "If the killer chose it for her that tells us something about him," he sounded thoughtful as he peeled off his latex gloves and nodded a greeting to the CSU team headed in.

"What do you mean?"

"It has a certain … style … ideally feminine," he glanced down at Alex as they walked at a slower pace toward the path back to where she parked the SUV. "It's evocative of angora sweaters … and pearls. High heels … and … seamed stockings …" Bobby looked up toward the sky with a faraway gaze, as if envisioning that 'ideal' woman.

"Great. We've got someone out there wanting to kill June Cleaver."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chanel No. 5 – **Chapter 2

For the third time, Alex was back at the beginning of the report she was trying to read. And for the third time she got as far as half way down the first page before her mind wandered away from the written words to the ones spoken by her partner.

'Ideally feminine.' That's how he described an image of womanhood Alex had thought long gone, surviving only in old black-and-white TV shows and movies. And if that woman in pearls and high heels was 'ideally feminine,' what did that make Alex?

Not that she looked masculine or anything, far from it. It's just that her tastes – what she looked best wearing – were more tailored fashions. Pant suits with the jacket nipped at the waist to accentuate her petite figure. Simple accessories, if any. Definitely no pump-style high heels or seamed stockings, and angora made her sneeze.

Attempt number four on the report. Alex sighed. It had been a long day. She'd gotten the call just before 5:00 a.m. that morning and made it to Central Park, coffee in hand, in less than an hour. It was now a little after 7:00 p.m. She should go home and start fresh tomorrow. But Goren wasn't going anywhere until he had the promised lab report on tests of a substance found in the victim's mouth. She'd decided to wait with him in the nearly-empty squad room.

Alex gave up on the report, leaned back in her chair and chewed on the end of her pen while studying her partner. Goren abhorred having to do paperwork – the task was much too tedious for a mind that whirled as fast and furious as his. But here he was, head bent and pen working, oblivious to the fact that she was watching him.

The man hunched over the desk opposite hers looked much the same as he had when they'd first met almost five years ago. His dark waves held a little more gray, and the frown lines on his forehead were a little more pronounced. But Bobby was still a very attractive man – a man whose taste in women apparently didn't include Alex's type.

"Can I ask you something?" She decided to just confront the issue – take the bull by the horns, so to speak.

Bobby looked up at her, nodded his head and relaxed a little into his chair. She suspected he was relieved to have an excuse to break away from the paperwork.

"Do men really find that attractive?"

"Uh … what?" he looked totally confused.

"That over-feminized, chauvinistic image of a woman," Alex clarified, wondering herself why she'd expected him to just know what she was talking about.

Bobby leaned back in his chair and gave some thought to her statement before figuring out exactly what she meant. "Depends on the man," he answered while his eyes questioned her interest.

"Is that what _you_ find attractive?"

"I …uh," Bobby stumbled a bit and Alex took some pleasure in being the one to trip him. "I-it's attractive on the right woman," he offered.

_Well that was vague_. And more than a little annoying. Alex looked back down at the report on her desk and tried to pretend she was reading.

This was bugging her, and it shouldn't be. She knew she was pretty … she knew a lot of men found her attractive. It's just, well … she was never going to be that buxom, statuesque, leggy version of a woman that she imagined would fit Goren's ideal. 'Little Lexie' from the school yards was an insecurity she thought long dead – until she saw that dreamy look in her partner's eyes as he described 'ideally feminine.' Alex wondered who he had been picturing in his mind's eye.

"So, how was your dinner with Sullivan the other night?" Goren's question came out of the clear blue, startling Alex.

"Don't try to change the subject."

"Uh … what subject?"

"Chanel No. 5 … your archaic idea of femininity," she reminded him.

"Eames, that was five minutes ago," Goren chuckled. "Sounds more like you're trying to _avoid_ a subject."

"Dinner was fine," she shrugged. Even Alex thought that sounded lame. "It was great!" This time she added a big smile.

Nodding, Goren turned back to his paperwork. "Veritas is a nice restaurant for a date," he said while checking off boxes and signing the current form.

"You've been?" she couldn't resist.

"Couple of times," he nodded, keeping his focus on his paperwork.

Alex narrowed her eyes and tried to figure out if he was just playing games with her. Although he looked innocent enough.

"So that's really your type?"

"I don't have a type," he muttered to his paperwork. "Well … wait … I take that back." Bobby put his pen down and looked back up at Alex, apparently realizing she wasn't letting him get away with evasive answers. "I like a woman who's confident in herself and knows what works for her. A woman who … plays to her own strengths, and can use the simplest things in ways to … make herself more attractive."

"Uh huh," Alex wasn't convinced.

"Really. Take for instance … perfume," he gestured toward her with his outstretched hand. "Fragrance should be a … sensual experience, intended for intimate situations. Most women don't understand that. They spray the current 'in vogue' perfume on their wrists and neck and consider it done," Goren waved his hand vaguely in the air. "When a woman takes the time to _choose_ her fragrance and bothers to apply it properly," he paused and gave her that one smile he had that was just perfection, "there's nothing more attractive."

"Apply it properly?" In the back of her mind a little voice was trying to warn Alex against egging him on. Something about the topic of applying perfume sounded a little too … personal.

"There's an art to using fragrance. There are books on the subject."

_Figures_. Sarcastic little voice.

"Courtesan schools in France teach classes in it."

"How would you …?" Alex caught herself before finishing that question. "Never mind." Bobby had done a stint in Germany while in the Army. _That was still right next door to France, wasn't it?_ Best not to think too long and hard about Bobby and educated French courtesans.

He grinned at her and she had the sinking feeling that he knew exactly where her thoughts had wandered.

Preparing for a good lecture, Bobby stood up, snagged the empty chair from under the desk near Alex and swung it around next to her. She swiveled her own chair to face him.

"A woman who is skilled in the art of perfume knows that it's intended to invite, not overpower," Bobby leaned forward in his chair, apparently warming to his subject. "It shouldn't announce itself to everyone who comes near. It's meant to be very personal."

_See?_ That little voice was louder now.

"This woman wouldn't buy a spray bottle," he inched his chair a little closer so that his knees were almost touching hers. "She'd want her perfume in a flask, knowing it should be applied by touch while her skin is still warm and damp from the bath."

He was now so close Alex could smell the lingering remnants of his aftershave combined with coffee, the mint he'd chewed earlier and Bobby's own scent, clean and masculine.

"She would take a drop, two at most, on these two fingers," Bobby held up the index and middle fingers of his left hand, drawing Alex's attention from his eyes. He then curled them to meet his thumb and slowly swirled his fingertips.

Strange how she was mesmerized by that small, slow movement. Bobby had beautiful hands – expressive, long-fingered … large. Alex swallowed, but it didn't help her suddenly dry mouth.

"First one," he extended his hand toward Alex's right ear, not touching but close enough that he brushed the collar of her shirt. "Then the other," his fingers ghosted along her jaw to her left ear. "She would touch the soft skin just behind each ear." Never making contact, Alex still felt a tingling on her skin beneath the path of his hand.

"With those same two fingers, she would press the pulse on her wrist," he looked to where her right hand rested on the arm of the chair. Alex quickly knotted her fingers on her knee, but not before he'd seen them trembling. "She would hold that wrist against the other," Bobby's voice was husky, "to warm the fragrance into her skin." He slowly raised his eyes to hers and Alex's breath caught at the dark heat she saw there – the same heat that seemed to be pooling in her stomach.

Resting his elbows on the arms of his chair, he steepled his index fingers and slowly rubbed the fullness of his bottom lip. She had the sudden urge to suck that lip between her own – to run her tongue over and past it …

"She might take another drop for the sensitive area behind each knee," and she realized his were now touching hers. "Depending on what she likes – she may even touch some perfume to the hollows behind her ankles." Bobby's lips curled in a knowing smile, and Alex's breath left her in a soft sigh. _How did he know?_

"Finally … just one more drop," again swirling his thumb against his fingertips. "She would place her fingers here … at the base of her throat," Bobby reached out and his own fingers hovered above the spot she knew betrayed her racing pulse. "And draw a line down her body as far as she would like to extend the invitation …" Never quite touching, his fingers followed the trail of buttons down the front of her blouse, hesitating at a place somewhere between her breastbone and her navel. Alex couldn't look away from his heated gaze to determine exactly where.

His eyes dropped to focus on her mouth and Alex nervously licked her bottom lip – she saw heat flare to hot desire.

A phone rang somewhere off to her right, vague and muffled. There was a flash of irritation in Bobby's eyes. The second ring broke the thread of his spell – by the third ring his smoldering look had cooled to be replaced by soft regret. Alex released the breath she'd been holding. Fighting to slow her heart rate, she swallowed an overpowering feeling of disappointment.

He stood and reached across both their desks to snag the receiver off his phone. "Goren." As he listened to the caller, her partner looked down at her – and he was, once again, just her partner. Gone was the seductive man with the hypnotic voice and hot, dark eyes whose words alone had excited her more than any touch from David Sullivan.

"Lab report's in," Goren stretched back across the desks to drop the receiver in its cradle. "I'm headed down to get it."

Alex felt the need to get out of there, to roll down the windows on the SUV and let the cold air clear her head. "You go do that," her voice shook and she had to pause a moment to steady herself. "I'm going home to practice my perfume technique," she joked sarcastically, hoping it would bring some normalcy back to her careening emotions.

"Why?" Goren looked puzzled. "You already smell great."

Alex blinked. The sure-footing she'd hoped for wobbled beneath her. "Thanks, but … I'm not wearing any perfume."

A moment of flame in the depths of his eyes. "I know," again husky. All so brief she wondered if she just imagined it.

Turning to walk toward the elevators, Goren called over his shoulder, "Play to your strengths, Eames."

_End_


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